


Pull The Pin

by orphan_account



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: BLI, Gen, danger days, killjoys, my chemical romance - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-19
Updated: 2013-10-18
Packaged: 2017-12-15 12:08:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/849386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The aftermath is never secondary, its what rips you to shreds if you don't pay attention to it. This tragic tale of lazer guns, romance and revenge revolves around a small crew of Killjoy that reported to the good Doctor. The story of the Pirate Crew and Faded Electric.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Look Alive Sunshine

Three killjoys scanned the desert near the neat and monochrome city; they had been there a good fifteen minutes which was a lot considering the proximity of their vehicle to the enemy’s doorstep. A young pink haired girl sat in the passenger seat tapping away at a computer screen in her hands; she was checking perimeters on the markers they had set a few weeks prior. Every now and then the tech geek would throw a glance around and to the back of the stolen and stripped industry van, checking on just how worried Black Marauder was. In the back, a man in his late twenties clad in a pair of grey cargo pants and a sleeveless camo-green shirt seemed to be using taking inventory as an excuse to fidget and twitch while one of their own was out there on the road side. He picked up cans and put them in boxes, his hands in fingerless gloves with metal plates along the top, the children that had escaped the city called him a ninja because of them. With an anxious sigh he sat down and stilled his leg as it bounced, the buckles that held his boots closed jingled slightly. Those light grey boots with once upon a time shiny steel toe and the gloves where the only pieces of his old SWAT red alert gear he had left. Well those and a few trinkets he had managed to sneak out with. 

Kicking bags and shoving a few captured cases of BL/ind’s best boom makers the rebel fished around for his head gear. Vi, as he called her, had managed to fix up some old helicopter head phones which they used while scouting areas and on runs for the good old doc. By sheer muscle memory he plugged in “Can you get your ass back in the van” he asked to their friend who was probably a good fifteen yards away. A sigh was heard on the other end before the voice buzzed a little in his ear. “Fuck no, Party’s gonna be bringing swarms. As B.A. as he can be too much suckers after ya is just too much” the azure haired woman said with a dark undertone. They never did find out if it was her normal speech or if Ghoul and Party knew something the killjoys in the van didn’t. “Crazy mofo better be right or we’re good as ghosted” he said with a furrowed brow and rubbing his forehead. All he got was an amused snort of laughter “You know we’d gladly get dusted…” she stopped short and he could here her running as her breathing came shorter “Party time” before he could reply Retro Viral called his name.   
“Marauder, lets go!” and they drove to the spot the pinkette had located their comrade. 

The blue haired bandit had taken down a few dracs by shooting at the front wheel of the motorcycles. The duo in the van stopped behind her and feared she had gotten hurt since she was down on one knee. Taking down two draculoids with one pull of the trigger she backed up into the van without missing a beat due to practice, they kept the slide-able door open and used the handles screwed to the roof to hang on while firing at the vampire masked henchmen. Between the chase and trying not to fall or get shot, a sinking filling started to build in the pit of her stomach. The signature Trans Am they traveled in was nowhere to be seen. It was only Dr. Death’s van and she hoped to the deaf heavens that the four guys that managed to kick start her heart were in there, bruised and beaten bloody didn’t matter as long as they were there. These thoughts made her lose her focus and she missed a drac who nicked her in the leg. She screamed at it and with just twitch if her index finger he was falling to his knees. “Faded, you okay?” Marauder called back trying to dodge the kamikazes that got in his way only making the road a little bumpier. “Keep fucking on the road, fuck!” the last swear came out breathless as the pain sunk in. 

She sat down behind the passenger seat where Retro Viral was talking to Dr. Death, the pinkette let out a frustrated cry and climbed to the back. The blue killjoy alternated between shooting, cursing at the pain in her leg and looking at her friend who was digging around the weapons stashed in a crate. One downed white clad goon and a missed laser beam later the hacker had emerged with something that resembled a bazooka. It was painted hot pink and had the words ‘Bang Bang” in bold black letters. Her female companion chuckled and cheered with her own choice banned words, a drac tried to crawl into the moving van and she kicked it away with her good leg another laugh spilling as it fell awkwardly. These moments when the fire, blood flow and splatter rearranged the scenery left her like Alice tumbling into madness. Next to her Retro Viral ignored he laps in sanity and was already aiming the large projectile launcher at the second white van. The makeshift skirt wearing rebel was usually calm and didn’t raise her voice much “Suck on this motherless fucks!” those words made even the focused and swearing driver laugh heartedly. “Oh shit!” Marauder cursed as he swerved away from the exploding industry vehicle. 

They meant to work out a smooth get away and had driven for a few minutes, “Nice shot, pinky pie, cooked those suckers on the spot.” The good doctor’s voice came through the speaker the killjoy in question had left open on purpose. She climbed back into the seat and put her headphones on. She pulled down the old gas mask that covered her nose and mouth before answering with a lopsided smile “Couldn’t have them frying up my favorite DJ now could I, Doc?” she chuckled a little breath less. “You’re right there little sis, any one needing my services in the old bazaar car?” his voice was stripped of the accent he held when on the air, no rock rap tone clung to the words. Just the simple words of a concerned friend, the blue hair woman made her presence known. “Pain killers would be nice, like the hole in my thigh, its looking pretty colorful.” She hit her head against the soft back of Retro’s seat with a groan. 

On the other side Dr. Death heard the sound of ripping fabric and a few swears that sounded pretty creative, the mood in both vans was pretty much the same. Pain, adrenaline, fatigue and that feeling none of them wanted to acknowledge that hole that had formed in their guts and the tight grip in there chest. He wished he could cry, he wished the kid was crying and her tiny back should twitch and shake with sobs, instead of the being this still form looking into the night next to him. He blinked as his eyes stung out of frustration more than the loss. If they’d just made it sooner maybe just maybe, Party would be belting out F.T.W.W.W. and he’d hear Fun Ghoul’s high pitched a bubbly laughter interrupting, infectious as it was he had his own theory about its tone. A theory he’d never confirm. He’d miss them, they all would and there would be trouble times ahead for them if they kept their heads in that direction. He took one breath and pressed the button on the radio, before he could say anything he heard something fire against the van behind them. Show Pony was driving and the blonde with them stuck herself out side the window to take a better look, the mirror proving itself useless. She ducked back in and looked at them with a fear marking her beautiful features. “Korse” His eyes widened as he pressed the radio’s button again “Retro, we got an exterminator at our heels” he fought every urge in him to stop the van get off and gun the agent down. “Electric’s got it… the cock sucker!” Retro screamed the last part as the ray gun’s blast hit inside the van by the sound. 

Faded Electric was standing with the back door open, her hair whipped around her head as she raised her red gloved hand, gun clutched in tight fingers. The cold look on her uncovered face seemed to hit the exterminator while she made quick work of the goon hanging out of the window. With a defiant glair she shot at the wind shield and it fell making the car swerve, but the exterminator got it under control and took out his gun. She was holding on to a small notch where the door closed, the van hit a small dent and she lost her balance and the beam caught her shirt around the midsection. She took her gun and shot three rounds, one charred the dashboard, and the other hit his shoulder earning her a howl of pain. Not looking too surprised by the smirk on her face, worthy of the deadliest undead and definition of predatory. The last round missed his head by a fraction, leaving a hole in the head rest. She’d never question why, maybe the grin made him feel fear or he wanted to keep this chase going, but the exterminator stopped dead in his tracks and made a u-turn back to the city. She closed the door and told the two in the seat, the shot that burned her shirt nicked Viral’s arm. The younger female was already tying a light blue band around it with wide white striped. Sitting down she examined her shirt, it was ruined; she ripped the bottom half off and used it as a fresh bandage for the gash on her thigh. If anyone said anything about the extra bits she’d show them just how handy the weight came in when you had to squish someone’s face into the dirt. 

 

The way back was quiet, only Retro Viral and the Doctor exchanging information and theories as to Korse’s retreat. “He was outnumbered and alone in the car. Fucking chicken shit can’t take on the enemy one to seven; we live for those odds against us.” Show Pony making weird noises in the other van brought a short lived smirk to the cerulean woman, it hit her then. “I used his smirk.” Her heart sank in that black whole her stomach had been harboring since the chase started. “Huh?” Marauder said as he rubbed his chin, scratching at the growing scuff. Retro just looked back and they could all picture the DJ’s face of confusion. “If you see him, put on a cocky smirk and look him dead in the eye. He’s used to fear. No fear and scare the crap out of the sick fuck” she quoted the words of advice “Poison told me that when he was training me to take on bigger fish.” Her stomach tugged at her, remembering the cat food in the boxes. “Who’s got a smirk cockier than Party, I used it and it freaked Korse out.” She called from between the seats, still facing the doors, the scene playing in her head over and over again. Everything around them had vanished and time stood still as she felt nothing but anger, the wanting of ridding this world from one more tumor and the need to avenge her fallen friends. The people she loved; the ones that shouldn’t have died and the one that had died for her a good few years ago. 

They heard the Death Defying sigh on the other end and Retro just looked down to hide the sorrow in her eyes. “He’ll be fixed on you, Korse was obsessed with Poison and destroying him. Since he pretty much taught you everything you know, terminator Korsie sees you as Party Poison living on.” Running a hand through electric blue strands she held back the need to scream at their friend. She was not like Party Poison; she was so far from ever measuring up to the man. Her hands clenched and she pulled a little, her mouth stretched into a frown as she clenched her jaw and looked up to the roof of the van lit with an old mercury light bulb on a garage lantern. She swore in that moment that she’d never let Grace feel what was going on inside her. The girl had lost the people she looked to as fathers; she was going to raise the kid like her friends would have wanted. By the time they got to the old gas station the little one had fallen asleep and Show Pony carried her out. Dr. Death came over to the van; Faded sat in his lap and he wheeled both of them in. She lay against him and he pressed a kiss to her head, the twenty year old hugged him and buried her face in his untamed raven mane. “We should hit up Sleep in the morning, see if he can arrange a little transport for ‘em.” Death whispered, the other killjoy just buried herself deeper as a sob wracked her dust cover frame. 

It would be hours before any of them got a wink of sleep; even Grace was wide awake. She clung to the wounded woman who was sitting a booth on the dinner portion of the gas station opening a can of cat food; thankfully Power Pup wasn’t all that they found on raids. Her lips became a thin line as she thought of the child in her lap and she picked up the fork. “Here kid you need to eat something before you hit the hay” She said in a soft voice as she offered the utensil. When the girl looked at her with a worried ‘are you serious’ look about the cat food she couldn’t help but laugh a little “I swear it’s a lot tastier that it smells.” The wild haired girl took the fork and dipped it into the stringy mystery meat. “That’s was Jet Star said about Power Pup” her curls block her view of the surely doubtful expression but the frown was audible. Putting her arms around the nine year olds waist she put her head over her shoulder. “Fine fine, if you don’t like it gimme.” She made to bite the young ones neck making all sorts of growling noises never actually biting her, the kid squealed and laughed at the tickle. She squirmed and took a mouthful of the cat food; it was quickly followed by four more. Faded laughed and laid back still hugging the child, she looked around the room self-consciously and caught Show Pony and Dr. Death’s eyes. Show Pony smiled at them his made up eyes a little watery while the older man nodded his head and raise his cat food.


	2. Na Na Na

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are never easy but you can't give up. Faded learns there's many different levels of ghosted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was particularly hard to write, warning may be triggering. Also the whole story is running with out a beta. If you like to volunteer, I admire you.

She didn’t remember putting the carburetor kid in the bed at the back of the diner and going into the long since empty broken freezer, shutting the door behind her. The cerulean top was numb, everything passed by in a dream like state. One thing kept pounding the front of her soul, the wound in her leg was the pedal to the drum, and it forced the beat of pain around her heart and cracked the wilted organ in an alarming tempo.

Those deep brown eyes, panicked and frantic, locked on a box in the corner. Did it mean a promise was null if the person was dead _. Images flashed in her eyes, Party Poison sitting in the front of a car as she woke up in the back seat “Doin’ okay kiddo?” he smiles and looks at he_ r. In the freezer she backs into a wall and takes a breath she knows it’s inevitable. An urge to run from the room entered her body but, you can’t escape your own mind, flickers of fear and anticipation start to lick up and down her body. These emotions are an unwanted hand feeling you up in some dark corner of the Hyper Thrus.           

           
 The few breaths she’s managed to catch as the anxiety mounts are knocked out of her with the memory of two calloused hands rapping around her arms, squeezing, there’s yelling too. _“Never do that again, do you understand? You’re better than pills, I know you! You don’t need this, please. Li-Listen to us, we can’t loose you.” His voice laced with worry and hurt, things that only make her wish it had worked even more._ The memory of her empty cracked voice pushes the tears down her cheeks, _“I’m neon garbage, and if I die nothing would change.” She had her head down and her shoulders were high where the redhead held her up._

The damage that had been done to her was so great that if he were to remove his arms she’d fall like the broken doll she is and remain on the ground next to the puddle of her vomit. Even know she could smell it; foggily remember how Party Poison had crammed his fingers down her throat because she had been careless enough to leave the bottle of pills out. It had only been a few days ago that she was thankful that they had saved her life. Now what was the use? Her arms tingled and her fingers itched for a blade, the digits flexing almost convulsingly, the knife on her boot strap would do the job. The memories weren’t through with her yet, her brow was knitted in agony as her lips made a grimace. Pressure built up inside her head even though she cried silently, her eyes were closed as the visual onslaught continued.

           

            _A thick haze was present in her brain, the burning tang of booze caked her mouth and throat and she felt on fire. The thrum of bodies with little red cups sent sparks to every nerve ending, she could deal with it in this state under the muggy air and odd lights of the house party. Being next to people and feeling happy, not a care in the world if the acrid sent of liquor wafted off in waves. A song started up in the background and when she caught the first few notes she couldn’t breathe, the breathless voice and aching guitars made in impossible for her to stay in the building any longer. The song was ages old but it described her to the last beat of sweat in her stringy hair, the outside air sobered the woman up a fraction as it cooled her sweat sticky skin. She tripped on her own feet for a beat and the iconic rattle of compressed powder against plastic rang in the silence, a pop of a lid and a few stakes, one more pop and she was better._

_Her friends had seen her leave and would be coming out in a while so she had to be quick. The brown eyed woman had seen him here; she smirked with a clumsy snort. Ironically the song that had made her flee the party scene was rumored to be about the very act she’d commit. With out another thought, thoughts would only hurt her further and she was doing this to block that pain, she followed the recommended stranger into the alleyway.  After the deal was struck her black denim clad knees touched the tainted snow and the other occupant of the otherwise vacant alley dropped his pants. It was winter so the chill and the sway of the concrete made her stomach lurch but maybe her conscience had more to do with it than the weather or the pills she took to counteract the booze._

 

Bile rose in her throat at the memory of how low she’d gotten, how low she could still be all for a high. The tidal wave of memories kept coming at her, if there was one thing she had missed about being in BLI it was that she would have been so medicated that seeing her sister’s face wouldn’t bring these memories. It was selfish but it was the only thing that kept her functioning.

She reached for the box on the top shelf of one of the many in the old freezer. She opened it and dug around the paper scraps and trinkets until she found a smaller plastic container, she pulls it out and runs a finger on the pink contours of the heart shaped case. That twisting sense of urgency hits her full force and she all but rips the lid off and yanks the key from the bottom where it’s taped. Every second that passes is a new memory, _the taste of blood made itself know on her tongue as she sucked on her bicep as best as she could. The cut ran deep and if she left it the blood would run to her wrists, it surprised her how unmarred they were. She never cut on them it was too obvious. By the time the bleeding had stopped her mouth tasted like the life liquid so much it made her head spin when she tried to pick up a her backpack her arm muscled complained. She picked it up over and over until she couldn’t anymore and the pain began to fade. It was better than that time she fell down a few steps and cut her back and feet up a little._

Party Poison had asked when he saw the raised white ridges on her sun kissed skin, if she was still as pale as before he wouldn’t have noticed unless he searched for them or was up close. Those same muscles felt no pain as she pulled up the trapped door she found a few years back on her sporadic visits. She climbed down the stairs and instinctively flipped a switch. The yellow light spilled over a work desk dressed in scattered papers, she went for the drawers, she found what she was looking for taped to the top of a stuck shelf that had a keyhole. At first it would appear locked until you yanked just right, she dug for the baggy of uppers and for a second she just stared at it. In her minds eye she could see a man in a red jacket with ribbons of blonde tangled a top his head. The lights flickered and the man became shorter, his shoulders lightened and sharp angles became curves, the short blonde streams became pink and purple pigtails and the peach tan skin rang a toasty sand shade. Faded dropped the baggy, the once pristine beautiful medication morphed into maggots in her head, or at least she dropped them like they had.

 

Something akin to panic rose and ran through her blood, it froze her and closed her in. Memories and visions of BLI officials swam in the crash queen’s aching skull, the tears never stopped. She felt there hands on her, the disinfected glare of the white walls as they stripped her and tied her down. She screamed then and now she could only hold herself as a burn reminiscent of when they hosed you down and scrubbed you raw before they shoved you in a pod, how sometimes a hand would linger far too long crawled on her skin again, blunt crooked nails digging into her skin leaving angry crescents as she removed them to stop her body as it fell to its knees.

That same burn personified in the angry marks that her nails left once she had fallen. The bolts of pain made a road way to chase the panic’s cold deeper into her and the voice of her first addiction called to her. “ _You’re worthless; you think you can leave this? You’re not worth enough for others to be burdened to hurt you._ ” She gritted her teeth baring them at the invisible assailant, then as if they were right next to her whispering in her ear she heard it “ _You’re stupid and crazy, if you’re gonna cut why don’t you do it right and kill yourself._ ” She heard his laugh and the woman’s mix as her heart clench before it shattered, taking her mind with it. Her left hand held a few remaining scars the others had long sense faded with the reasons that birthed them but the insults and laughs raged on. “ _You’re a fucking whore, a fat worthless cunt._ ”

 

Her bitter words tinged with a mother’s hurt became soulless and deeper, just as cold as the blade that had sunk into her arm years before. That soulless voice began to chuckle darkly, it was him. Korse was messing with her head, the insults she had heard from her scared mother rolling off his imaginary tongue as his ghost stood before her to cut her up inside enough for her to make the outside match.  “ _Nothing but a useless halfwit, stupid, filthy and alone_ ” The room spun as he laughed and smiled at her, the same smile he flashed when he thought he had ended her life when she first ran. “ _Slut!_ ” the lighting flickered and she couldn’t breath, her vision felt assaulted by dozens of camera flashes. “ _Spread yourself for any fucker like the useless fat bitch you are_.” He knelt beside her and grimaced like her couldn’t bear to be next to her, smell her, touch her. “ _Your mother never loved you; she thought you were just a leach and feature junky. Not too wrong now was she_ ” he chuckles or maybe giggles in that acidly corrosive voice as he leans in to whisper “ _You’re just like daddy_ ” he backs away and continues the onslaught of insults and laughs. Those burnt eyes of hers that once held warmth where dead and open wide, tears lining the lashes and streaming; her hands had made their way into her hair. It was no use covering her ears as he continued his endless rampage. “ _No one will ever believe that you’re not a fucked up bastard, you have NO VOICE!_ ” Sometime along the way her eyes had scrunched together as she took the beating.

                                                                                  

“Stop” it was barely above a whisper, it didn’t even sound like her. “Stop it” there it was again. _“What ever you say mutt but you can’t hide the truth. We know you’re useless, worthless and stupid.”_ She had gotten to her feet as he spoke backed up against a wall as he was in her face, she could practically taste his whiskey breath with pharmaceutically sweet undertones. The ones that made her want to be sick, she pulled her hair as he moved in on her ear again; a full body grimace ran through her. “ _I’ll kill you and fuck you just like I did with him. You’re already dead because you have nothing to live for. Didn’t you come down to do it anyway, beat me to the punch? You’ll never do it honey, you’re so uselessly headless to get it right. You’re so pathetic you can’t even kill yourself.”_ She let out a strangled groan that threatened to be a scream. _“You’re nothing like him. He had guts and something to keep him running, you have nothing and you are nothing. That’s all you ever will be, a stupid, worthless, stretch out useless pussy, a forgettable nothing.”_ He chuckled one more as the cold began to suffocate her and the sense of claustrophobic dread gripped her like the hands of a dozen rotting corpses she thrashed and screamed as he stood their and smiled that cold and twisted grin.

 

Her voice became a growl echoing in the sound proof basement, lighting struck her as the scream ripped through. It was like being set on fire, the maddening adrenaline and indescribability of what happens to you on stage at a rock show, and like a cold wind gusting through a room at high speed taking away the matted humidity that prickled nerves in the worse sense. Her back arched off the wall as her head tilled up mouth wide open and eyes shut and her hands formed claws in the tension at her sides bye her frozen, tightened thigh muscles as he legs remained spread in her stance;  the posture was fit for the rapture it would represent normally, her eyes rolled back slightly as well. It all happened in on word that made every ghost disappear; the word that ended and began so many things that sent frenzies of electricity into her every nerve ending. It carried on in a single scream loaded with every once of energy that her throat began to feel raw, “Stop!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys made it out alright, never take anyone's shit and never let them take you alive.
> 
> more updates to come :)


	3. Bulletproof Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sun comes up and not much has changed, ghost and vampires still haunt in the snow and the sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning, may be triggering. I hope this find you well and doesn't cause you any pain. Just know I'm well and zapping dracs left and right.

She knew she wasn’t coming out of this one alive; she didn’t want to make it. She only wanted, she didn’t even know at the moment or wasn’t even sure she knew if she wanted to admit it. For hours she sat on the dusty floor just like two years ago, her body numb from the exertion of her latest meltdown. Korse had taken on the shape of all her demons, who else but the man who took what she most loved, who she most love from her to play the role of those nightmares and phantoms. She stared blindly at the opposite wall maybe the night terrors, those monsters that she’s been but not the phantoms, her friends where the phantoms and now it hurt to think of them; later she’d remember the happy days. She took another swig from the old whiskey she’d found, it cooked her throat before she even swallowed it. She sang out a few lyrics to a song she never remembers hearing, “well if you wanted honesty that’s all you had to say, I never want to let you down or have you go its better off this way.” Was it? They were dead and she had almost broken her promise, again. Deep down she wondered if any of them remembered what they had been before the Inferno. She kept singing as the bottle kept loosing its content.  
  


Slowly her drunken mind began to shed its layer of self-destruction in favor of sobering up and doing as she was expected to, even if it was just as self-destructive. Finish their mission in their name, she raised her bottle and made a toasting motion before downing the remaining amber liquor. That night she spent on the beige couch with an ancient pink flower print, she was out like a light. She found herself here so often even her drunken mind could count the steps to the couch. When she woke up as the sun rose, her insides decide to say good morning and she heaved onto the floor before reaching a bucket and emptying the little chunks off food from almost nineteen hours ago. As soon as the bile in her stomach made a home for itself in her emergency bucket, the blue haired killjoy decided that no one was pretty on the inside. She looked at herself in the mirror by the work desk and wiped some puke from her mouth and onto her half dirty pants. The Killjoy wasn’t numb but, nothing hurt as bad as it had the night before, not anymore. She might not live past these last few cycles but she was gonna go down fighting. She climbed the stairs and pushed the trap door open; she took a moment to steal herself before going back to the diner with everyone else.  
  


The rubber- burner had hoped for a dreamless sleep but her memories projected themselves behind her lids, ones from before and after the world collapsed. She smiled at the memory of a strange boy with blonde hair and a star quarterback build. “You know we can stay here, and I’m sorry but I’ve screwed everything for you. We need to leave this town, now.” She looked at his chill blue eyes at the final word, desperate and full of trust “we should of left yesterday, I’m holding you back, it’s the only thing I’m good at!” her voice was about to break as brown eyes clouded over with tears. She scrubbed them away and looked at his again; they looked so beautiful rimmed with the blackish blue of his make up. “I’m not leaving you here, the pigs’ll kill you before you can even give up!” he all but screamed at her, they where barely seventeen and already running. He gripped her arms tightly “Are you really gonna listen to them? They want you to go back there.” She felt his arms wrapping around her “I’m never gonna let them hurt you, even after I’m dead. I don’t care what happens to me as long as you’re still breathing you understand that?” they heard a voice outside and they picked up their stuff, a couple backpacks and their guns, “Jonathan Stark, surrender if you plead guilty the law of Battery City will-” the voice was cut off and a thud followed instantly, the brunette was pointing her gun at the crowd, she turned and smiled to him. “Lets go, the rooms gonna be packed with bad company” they ran out the back door and into their stolen car. They sped off into the desert and felt free to breathe for once, the plastic-taste free air twisting in their hair; she smiled and kissed his neck even though her head was racing so fast she just wanted to pull herself out of it.  
  


A dopey smile engraved her lips as she entered the main diner; only Dr. Death, Ret and Marauder were awake. The others were probably still sheltered in the folds of sleep, tucked away safely from this nightmare. A pang of sorrow struck her and he mouth went dry, the blue hair killjoy looked to her sister and the pinkette gave a nod before turning back to her makeshift com-center.  
  


The cerulean woman turned and walked quietly towards a small room in the back, she nudged the door open and a rare smile formed on her chapped lips. Curly puffed of hair fell all over the pillows, Grace was sleeping and she was safe. She couldn’t stop thinking of how she had managed to make the child sleep that night after the vicious slaying the ran into at a safe house, her heart break and pain only added to Faded’s as she felt the impotence in her double at the child’s hopelessness, her pain fueled a growing anger and murderous rage that hungered for retribution. Revenge was a dangerous weapon, for the one who wields it and the adversary. She couldn’t let them steel the glimmer of life in Grace’s eyes; that light of joy that kept everyone in the diner running. They’d all lost that light in some fraction; she was the only one who still looked at the world with a beaming light that was more than enough to keep them breathing. Faded Electric sat on the edge of the makeshift bed, the only real mattress in the entire diner, she ran a had through some stray curls, a familiar motion that earned her a pair of gleaming eyes still sleep fuzzed and peaceful. “Time to get up, sugar, we got butts to kick and engines to prep” the last words granted her a confused stare and a slight tensing in the younger female’s frame. “Race day, sugar butt, while Ret and D yap we get to run.” The punk jumped out of the bed, planted a quick kiss on the azure hair woman’s cheek and peeled into the diner for breakfast. Faded could only chuckle as the girl zoomed back into the room for her pants and shoes and zoomed right back out, pulling her pants on as she walked.  
  


As fast as the girl moved the Killjoy couldn’t help but notice the grin of enormous proportion that was plastered on her face, ear to ear. The excitement at the idea of tinkering with electronics and explosives for the race proved she was already one of the Fab, Faded’s heart clenched at that epiphany. She had the last of the Fabulous Killjoys under her care; the kid really was a lot like Kobra Kid and Jet. She went to her bike and rolled it out of the dinner through the main entrance, she could see Retro Viral and the Doc having a cup of Joe with Marauder and she smiled at the group before heading outside and lighting a cigarette. The woman took a few puffs and put it out carefully before tucking it back in the pack. Small luxuries like smoking were rare and nowhere near cheap, the couple cartons of smokes in her pack cost her a couple gallons of water and six batteries.

 

They had gotten news of the race just a few hours after they dusted the pursuit team from the slaughter and got the kid to the diner, it was being held at the Hyper Thrust and for once the team was grateful they had to leave their hideout for a day. She leaned on the blue and green bike and waited for the others to pile into the vans, it had been days since Faded had taken a high-speed ride on her Frankenstein beauty. Pulling on the semi translucent purple scarf over her mouth and slipping on her copper rimmed aviators she mounted the motorcycle and sat back waiting for the team to finish putting the mobile radio together in the van.

 

Once Dr. Death Defying gave a thumbs up she revved the engine dramatically and make the tires screech before making her way down the road, since they were happy with the live sound effects they started to follow her as they made their way to the infamous Killjoy nightclub. In the Pony van Retro Viral and the Doc began the broad cast, the morning’s Vulture View emission. The reception at the race site would be strange at best and overpowering at worst, silently they all prayed for an awkward crowd greeting rather than any form of praise. Hell even disapproval and grudges were accepted, the words from the early morning broadcast still held the taste of bile on her tongue but Retro Viral put her thoughts aside and focused on the present and planned on enjoying the race. They had mourned their heroes, now it was time to party as a proper send off cause we all wanna party when the funeral ends, sadly people forget why they party in the first place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its short but bear with me... Planetary is a whopper.  
> Lots agnst up ahead, consider this your fair warning :)  
> Stay tuned and Keep Running.  
> Faded, signing out.


	4. S.I.N.G.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vulture View and a history lesson, don't let the sun bleach your colors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its a little weird because my plot blew up in my face and mutated. Things make sense later. Double update since I've been neglecting you. Don't get used to it. I'm prepping you from some angst. I feel like shit for the whole Chem reference and something I did near the end with another band, if you caught it then brownie points.  
> Stay tuned and Keep Running,  
> FE signing out

Earlier that morning _  
Retro Viral was sitting on the bar wiring Dr. Death’s mobile gear to the one she kept in her backpack. They needed to broadcast this over the whole rage, leaving no zone with out the news. The Fabulous Killjoys, as they had been nicknamed by their comrades, had passed on in an altruistic mission and they needed to be held as the heroes they were, everyone in the diner knew that only a couple years after the sun was bleaching the colors too fast. 

 

She remembered when she had just made it into the desert; Korba Kid had taken her in and helped her, watched over her and taught her the tricks of the trade. Every little thing she knew know, she owed it to the master. To Kobra Kid and his love-hate relationship with electronics, without them most killjoys would have gone back on the pills. These four men had started this movement to live life they way they wanted. To laugh, to love, to feel every butterfly and the nerves of doing something for the first time, that adoration you feel when you see a young one get it right after you’ve learn it like a well worn glove. 

 

ºThey fought so they could be free to feel this pain, this loss and the misery when they thought of how cold the world had become. The pain and sorrow wasn’t always a bad thing as most people would say it is, its what helps you secure your humanity, its that thing that reminds just how much you hold someone dear and how much they loved you back. These men made it so they could live, dream, love, cry and just be who they are. Because of them, she had something to live for, something to keep her living and some day find that thing that was always meant for her, that bright side and the strength to cross the bridge to get to it. 

 

That movement became an army, that army became a family. It was a family that never turned its back; a family that would stand by you, take your hand and hold you when things went from bad to worse. They would die for you and you would do the same, because that’s how much they cared. They never cared how banged up they were, they would always make sure you were safe and even though you knew nothing and barely knew them you would worrying about them; the urge to keep them safe and living would overcome the fear and the uncertainty. You believed in not just a cause but in life and in being human and free; you believed in love and to make your own choices. They said it’s okay to have problems, to not be okay because happiness isn’t not having any problems its being able to look past them and be happy. Just the way you are, because you are beautiful and you don’t need to change for anyone and no one can change you just because they don’t like you. 

 

She remembered Party Poison and something he had written down, even though he had been reluctant she had made him sing it. She recorded it and the other boys had picked up some instruments and played them like they had been dong so their entire lives. Funny thing was they didn’t recall ever learning to, or ever playing together. For a moment it scared them and they found that maybe they had known each other before. Party knew Kobra was his brother and that he had known Ghoul and Jet form before, just never being able to remember beyond that. Every now and then he’d get glimpses of his life before the Inferno, the name they gave the end of the world, the great fires of 2012 was just too long. That moment, it felt so right, like they had been doing that for years on end, the same feeling they had when they went up against BL/ind in their hearts. 

 

That’s when they remembered their real names; she didn’t remember her own until she saw he sister get shot in the stomach by an exterminator. The fear of losing her and the white hot hatred she felt for the agent had made her kick a drac so hard in the head it dropped dead, when she reached for her sibling’s gun she didn’t even hear herself scream as she ran to the achromatic being in the other wise quiet desert. She only remembered gunning him down, a scorch mark dead between his eyes. She kept firing until her older sister put a hand on her shoulder and she dropped the gun hugging the woman, when the tears had started was still a blur but she suspected they had begun when the agent had aimed his gun at the bruised and bloodied woman. From that day on Faded Electric and Retro Viral were like each other’s shadow and it would scare people when the other didn’t need to talk and one always knew what she meant or wanted.

 

The set up was done and all of this was still running through her mind when she called the DJ to the mike. He looked at her as she tried to busy herself with the screen and keeping her head down or to the side. A hand went to her chin and another to her shoulder, he turned her head and she pursed her lips averting her eyes, tears about to fall from the surface tension on her long black lashes. When she looked at him, he gave her that look only a grandmother should be able to give, the hand on her shoulder moved to her cheek and she held on to them bowing her head and letting the tears fall, a small sob escaping and a sniffle. 

He took her in his arms and held her, she clung to his leather jacket, the one Kobra had found for him. He never spoke; if he did she might have pushed him away and held back the pain that would have only hurt her further. She was sure she heard him stifle a few sounds as he cried, arms flexing and face buried in her hair. Faded had locked herself in the broken freezer, like she usually did after a particularly bad encounter with Korse or when something triggered the memories. If he sister was around she would have hugged her from behind, making her feel warm and safe in a cocoon of people who felt the same way she did, who would cry with her. After a few minutes they pulled apart and she wiped the tears with a portion of the tie around skirt and she chuckled a little, her throat still aching and closed. She reached up and wiped the tears off of his cheeks and kissed the left one. “Better pinky?” he spoke in his deep tone, though his voice was still a little rough. “Soon, lets be the bearers of bad news.” She sniffed and moved their gear to a booth, cursing about not setting it up there in the first place, taking a seat and messing around with two sets of microphones. 

 

The raven haired man got back in his wheelchair and went to the end of the table, he had been regaining mobility for a few years now but he still needed the chair every know and then when the pain was too much. Amazing thing about the desert, it can heal the worst pains you’ve ever felt just because it like to be so desolate or look it anyways. The sun had begun to rise and it hit them how long the chase had taken.   
“Wake up my detox babies Dr. Death Defying here with the early happenings at the best spot in this hell or the next. Bringing you the freshest news and grimmest greetings, telling you you’re never alone in this big ol’ sandbox. Give it up for the infectious cure to Acrome, my dosage of lovely poison Retro Viral.” He spoke into the mike his voice still a little raw as he chalked up the radio persona. It was her turn now, “That’s right Dr. D I’m here bringing the scoop on where the hot spots stick and where the hot mess lays. My job ain’t a pretty one kiddies and last night proves just how fucked it can be. A safe house was all but A-bombed, and exterminator dropped by and tried to dampen the party. Total dust rings around a dozen and the red spell is far from over so keep the kiddies in the school district.   
Keep running and never look back is a rule we live by and one that right now, babes is what we need to do.” 

 

She backed away from the device and put her hand on her mouth as she bit back tiny cries of pain and anguish, it shouldn’t hurt this much still. They had gotten good at doing morning editions together when they met up. The radio pirate took over in a fluid motion, everyone on the other side would say its planned.   
“I’d like to say Good Morning to all you zone runners, this morning is anything but good. Two years ago to the day at dusk, the Fabulous ones had a show down with an exterminator and bit the dust. Achromatics abducted a young on’ and our brothers fell in the rescue, gunned down by a horde of dracs getting the girly to the rescue ride. These four gentlemen gave their lives to protect our future, this time by saving a killjoy to the bone kid, and way back nine long years ago by dragging our drugged derrieres out of the cities, having the balls and flipping the birdie. Giving us a place to be uncensored and unmonitored” He gripped her hand and she began, the all familiar ache of be wronged and a need for retribution biting at her insides.

“A few years back, I found out Party was a real shiny singer, he told me and that sometime we’d all have to sing it out, and even if they’re long gone with the Six Gun Widow. Today they’ll here us roaring, engines and voices. Get you’re scrap metal ready. Hyper Thrust it and don’t get yourselves smashed on the pavement, much like one or two killjoys in this weeks tragic traffic report.” It was time they closed off the quick obituary and prepped to head for the race. “Don’t let that ball of radiation bleach your colors kiddies, keep the venom vibrant!” she all but warned as she launched a quick look at some tune options settling for the short Seattle sub-pop Sliver.

 

The sun was up and Marauder had begun to make something akin to coffee, the sent stirring her stomach to hunger, she hadn’t eaten anything since yesterday’s lunch.  
“We’re on the high way to hell, going down with our friends shooting from the hip.” The good old Dr. purred into the microphone. She joined him for the last bit their voices in sync. “Retro Viral and Dr. Death out for the time being, zones to run, calamity calling me” she continued “lets make those Dracs regret the day they crossed us,” vocalizing the way that would’ve made Party give a ‘fuck yeah’ face. “Keep running, Dust Angels” they turned off the mikes and kept the feed open in case they got any messages from anyone who needed a hand.


	5. Planetary (GO!)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything goes costa rica.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, I'm busy drawing a comic with a friend. There is a chance we'll get published so updates will be spontaneous but still present.

How the day ended this way, they never knew but it was expected. The high activity readings must have been off the charts; that’s why the main head quarters were covered in old satellite dishes and under ground. 

\------

She was all suited up, a bright blue leather jacket with acid green designs on the back and a pair of grayed out denims, the sand crunched under her boots and she tugs on her bright red leather gloves. A couple of Crash Queens throw a few cat calls and wolf whistles her way and she winks at them, a few quiet down as they see the dirt on her face possibly mistaking it for a shadow of stubble, after all the jacket and protective vest are pretty good at hiding her breasts and curves. Granted neither or those two things are exactly something to notice, her breasts are small and she’s got a pair of very grab-able love handles.

 

The killjoy smirks to herself as she walks toward the mechanics area that had been set up for the race. Amazing thing about living like bandits for the better half of their lives, you can assemble and disassemble a full festival in under a few hours. It wasn't anything too big but it was impressive once you knew that most of this stuff was carted around in a van, each safe house miles and miles away from each other. It was amazing once you think about it, these people got word and rushed over, put up a whole race without a single argument. Like clockwork. Above their makeshift pit there’s a Jolly Roger with a vicious yellow thunder bolt going through its head and looking mischievous as painted green smoke spilled from its mouth, the same emblem that’s painted on her helmet. She stares at it fondly, it’s one of the few traces they have left of the Fab and seeing it hug above the small military styled gazebo makes her heart flutter. “Shadows carry on forever”, her mind echoes as she clasps Marauder’s hand in a high five, his chill blue eye bright with that same spark she saw in Ghoul’s once upon a past. 

 

They go over the main route of the race and the overview of the activity feeds in the area, the lack of static reports makes them anxious. Marauder looked up at her and shot a comforting smile, “Jitters got you wide eyed, Bonnie?” He goes behind her and plants a kiss on her neck hugging her waist, her eyes close as she lets her head roll back, committing every inch of his body pressed to up against her to memory. She could stay there until the sun burned up and then some. They lost each other for a moment on their first run from the city years ago; Sleeper came into the picture and got them back in black. She had almost given up thinking him dead. 

 

They parted and sat thigh to thigh, checking some last minute equipment, nobody questioned anything. Having someone close enough to touch you was a gift in these sands. “I love you, remember that okay? No matter what babe” she whispered to him, the only time she’d ever admit it because something was tugging at her gut to do so. The same tug she got when she didn’t see the Trans Am, she closed her eyes and scratched her nose. “No” she told herself, the man next to her didn’t say anything, he knew that she wasn’t referring to him. She’d picked up the habit of saying ‘No’ when something was wriggling in her brain that wasn’t supposed to be there, when the terrors came worse. Faded shoved away all thoughts of the baggy in her pocket and the moon shine in her pack. Now was not the time, she needed to be clear headed and not that kind of bright eyed. Marauder gave her a peck on the cheek and made to slap her ass as he jumped from the table and went to add and extra zap batteries to the pack on her scrapped blue bike. A smile broke out over her lips as her favorite tune began to beat. 

 

The feeling of sterilized black and white hit her like sideways kick to the chest, she hears it for a second and the innate survival instinct thumps in her heart. The radio that blasted ‘Thunderstruck’ stopped for a second as a blip of static pulsed through the speakers, nobody dares to breathe. It was three short beeps. Like switching a channel on an old TV, skipping over the news to the cartoons or a gory movie but, here in the Californian deserts a pretty teen in miniscule underwear wasn’t the one getting hacked up bloody; you’re the one on the chopping block. 

 

Nobody dared move as several snipers and look outs checked the horizon and race track. The younger killjoys and children where moved to the center of battle hardened groups, every capable killjoy pairing up with the more wicker crash queens; all of them slipping on their masks and a hand on their holsters. The seconds ticked by and the static wave never came back, Black Marauder let out a breath and continued the final adjustments on the bike. The Scarecrows have learned to use radios as radars when someone switches or flicks off the dials, change station or turn it off and its lights out.

 

The festival erupted in a cloud of noise and color that overwhelmed Faded after the tense silence; it was a moan after a stabbing. Letting out a quick breathe she slipped on her helmet and tested the com links. A little flicker of joy ran through her systems, her flesh and blood had built the microchips and circuitry from scrap metal and out of date computers. 

 

She felt her heart thump like a steady drum beat pelted with a bass that could raise the dead, if you know what I mean. Through all her excitement and shaky trust in the nearly three hundred or so Killjoys present, she still kept her hands loose and had a clear path to her friends and Grace mapped out in her head. She was pretty sure Black did too; every Killjoy here had a plan for this type of situation. They reveled in the danger and the chaos, uncertainty and the near death thrill. They laughed in death’s face but had backup plans and escape routes worthy of an A grade trickster. She smiled and gave one last look at her heart throb; the bastard looked up from the com link he was tinkering with and smirked mischievously, wink and all. The Killjoy let out a chuckle and tightened the gloves and the rest of her gear, making sure her holster was secure as engines revved and people cheered inebriated. The Race was about to start. She had skulls to crush.

\--------------------

She gripped her head, dizzy and in pain, corpses surrounded her when she looked up. Her hair was matted with blood and grayed with dirt, nothing seemed to be standing and no shadow loomed over her. To her right she could fuzzily see her bike laying on its side, she tried to use her arms to get up and only got as far as resting her elbow. Dry mouthed and covered in sand, Faded made to get up after taking a few breaths only to see the ghosted runners surrounding her. As she dragged herself to her feet she picked up the zap she had under her stomach. She took a step and her legs gave out, she didn’t know if it was the grave yard she found herself in or the injuries. 

 

The cerulean gasped and gritted her teeth when the pain shot up from her knees and side. A nasty scorch mark adorned her stomach opposite a similar burn, long since scarred. Everyone around her was dead, some partially covered with sand the desert winds tucked them in with. The throb in her head became worse as tears threatened to wash out the dust on her face. How long had she been here? The panic rose as her jaw clenched, Faded made sure her mask was still in place, the skull mask she had modified was still in place. The Killjoy was shivering from the sheer amount of death that surrounded her, she hadn't been this shaken up since... “Marauder?” Faded whispered in cracked voice, his zap was sticking out from behind her bike. 

 

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!” she ran towards the fallen blue motorcycle and to her friend’s side. “Black, come on!” she rested her head on his chest eyes open wide, ripping off her mask tossing it next to him, eyes scared and panicked governed by the feeling that if all her senses were full throttle she'd hear his heart better. “No, buddy, don’t do this.” She started the chest compressions, no beat. No breathing. She stayed there going through the motions until a vulture called a few feet away; plucking someone’s eyeball out, Marauder was as white as its sclera. She shook harder than before, no tears fell and not a sound left her lips as she stared at the scavenger. Its blue black feathers shining in the aching sun as it ducked its head through a tear in an abdomen. Faded blink and moved, the jolts that substituted for movements were frantic as she took off his mask and boots. His zap came next, Mischief Maker wasn't gonna be left here to rot in the sun, she turned the corpse around and removed his jacket with a careless tugs. 

Her hands became steadier and efficient; she propped him up and stole his shirt, undid his pants and tugged them off. Every scrap of anything ended up in a pile on his jacket. The only noises in the clap site were Faded’s grunt and the vultures dining as the sun thought about setting. The Killjoy found a scrap of metal laying around, recently charred, and started to dig. She angrily made her way through the sand, not sound escaped her pursed lips as her eye kept wide open. She still held that stunned emotion, running on autopilot. She wasn't about to leave him for the snatchers or the buzzards. 

 

Only the grunts of effort and a slight grimace changed her almost droid like expression. She had dug enough on her knees and sat back on her legs just looking at the nude corpse resting before her. His wounds became more obvious, he was probably long dead before she tried to get his pulse going. The sun was warning her as it tinged the sky a new alarming shade, getting up she picked the body up under its arms, dragging it and looking at it for a second. 

 

She tilted her head narrowed her eyes, the bastard was smiling. He was probably glad she took his “waist not, want not” advice in robbing his corpse and paying it back with a grave. She took off a bracelet and left it on his chest before covering Black Marauder with dirt. She made sure it looked like another stretch of desert before taking on the task of forcing her aching body to right her bike and pack on her looted supplies. She saw a few other dusted killjoys, some already turned to dinner and others just as dead. 

 

Her eyes flew back to her buried friend in a small twitch left before settling on the nearly twenty corpses, she went for it. She stripped them of batteries and plasma loads, she couldn’t run out of juice like earlier and it’s not like they needed it. Other things caught her eye, switchblades and a few smoke bombs, sharpies and makeup bits that were mostly lipsticks, kohl or grease paints. She took what she could and mounted her bike taking off with a prayer on her lips, no apologies or even a thought of them. 

 

Her face was stern and her jaw set, the once flecked chocolate eyes took on a wild burnt brown as she drove on through abandoned back roads and to an old motel. They had switched their base a few times and this was the latest. If anyone from the crew survived they would leave a message for the new HQ or be there. She kept her eyes open for cars or glimmers of metal in the desert sands, Motor Baby better be running and not chewing some dirt on the other side. If she wasn't Faded had only one person to blame. Faded would take all her anger and loss out on that very person, again she felt the burn of that wolf scratching up its cage for retribution. 

 

The Killjoy took extra precautions making her way to the run down biker bar they has found a few cycles back. As soon as she saw the old bar come into view, a graffiti covered van parked around back with the doors wide open and people unloading gear, she made a choice.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you like it and more updates to come. You've probably seen this fic floating about the net and a site that specializes in MCR fanfics, constructive criticism is welcome and encouraged.  
> xo  
> A


End file.
